Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1887-04-15

"That's another of her notions" scornfully
retorted Mis- Simpkins. "She senses she
| can't turn herself over. Every time she
| wants to be moved, she screeChes for some of
| 'em to come and lift her. But she can turn
herself over fast enough if she thinks nobody's
lookin'. 1t takes her half minnit to put
every bite O. victuals into her mouth. She
pretends to think she's got chalk in her jints,
and they've got brittle and'll break if they're
| moved unexpected She crooks her fingers
that slow when anybodys lookin, till you'd
think it twas funeral waitin for the corpse's
| cousins to take their leave But when Mad
anne Frenchy tells her what a purity white
| hand she's got and what slim knuckes-she
| does it O. purpose to try her, old Mis- Frenchy
| does she's smart enough, | war'nt ye)-then
| she forgets herself tee-totel, she does, and
| lifts her hand and limbers her fingers out an
out like pianna playin'. You can say what
| you please but them kind O. rheumatic I've
| got my opinions Of"
| Mis- Sinpliins shut her jaws with a snap
like a steel trap and ceased. Katy Tringle
| took up the narrative.
"The neiGhbors says she got nigh onto a
bar'l o doctor books, and she reads 'em all
| day, studyin' ont what she calls her symptins.
Shed better be readin' her Bible and maxim
her peace with her God and her neighbors, II
| she's gon to die so fast"
Katy Tringle stretched out her neck and
| gave hiss not unlike defiant goose. In
decd both in appearance and mental qualifi-
cations, Miss Trlngle resembled somewhat
| that invaluable domestic bird. The hiss set
Mis- Simpkins going again.
"Yes, she says the doctors don't understand
her case at all" says she. "Dr. Pumpkins
| they've rowsted out q dozen times in the
night to 60 out there cause Mis- Carstone
wouldn't live till morning. Last night they
sent fur him he jst naturally up and wouldn't
| go. l heerd every word they said myself,
| right next door to the doctors shop. He told
! 'em he was too tired to go anywhere, and he
| wouldn't go to see his own mother-in-aw that
| night"
Again this little Mis- Simpliins shut her
mouth with a snap like steel trap.
Again the old maid prompted her, and
| again set her going
mis- Carstone amt no more the same
! woman she was when he wuz livin' than if
| she'd turned into porkypine. She's as cross
as pizen. If they go agin her the least mossel
| she threatens the children she's agoin' to die,
| and tells em they'll be sorry after she's dead
| But she'll be alvin after you and mes laid
y
Which was quite true. Mis- Simpkins
summed up in final gush of emphatic
| opinion:
"sjhe goes a nag, nag, naggin' from mornin'
till night, and noboiy's got minit's peace in
| the house. Lordl Lord! if l had her, I'd
take the kinks out of her!"
Then she shut her jaws with snap which
was plainly to close out.
The village gossips' diagnosis was only too
correct. To this hopeless state pretty, gentle
Mrs. Carstone had brought herself, simply
| by giving way to her emotions, and coddling
| her little ailments. The process is not diff
cult one for anybody
| Shirley's way was not path of roses, turn
which way she would. The question of
money bringing work had beset her sorely,
but beginning had been made toward set
ting that. The ever present Mis- Smpkins
opened her mouth and decided the matter
She said to the squire:
"What's the use of maxim SIGH TODD about
a schoolmaster, when there's one right under
your noscsl Give the school to Shirley Car
stone She can write and indite and cipher
as good as the Presbyterian minister hisself
if she is female. She amt no great shakes
in years, but she'll come O. that, if she's let
alone. Most of us does"
| So it came about that Shirley found her
| self in the place the master had filed. She
had taken the work that lay nearest. A
dreary, distressed life she led at first In her
disappointment and inexperience, death would
| have been easier-far easier, indeed.
On this sullen, rainy autumn evening she
had gone home from her school and sum-
moned up all her courage, all her philosophy,
to meet the situation Harry, the youngest
Ia. L,,, Il
noon was a question of his life or death. Her
mother was so overcome that she went from
one fainting fit into another Between her
calls for hot water and cold water and rasp-
berry vinegar and smelling salts, and her be-
ing constantly moved, She had kept the house
hold on the trot for hours. The sound of her
peevish groanings was still in Shireys ears as
| she passed into the room where baby Harry
lay. a look of joy lighted his white little
face as he saw the strong, tall sister. He
! lifted his wasted arms feebly about her neck
and moaned
"Help Harry, Shirley"
She lifted the mite of body in her arms,
and walked back and forth, soothing the
child.
"You better let him die, Mademoiselle, -
said old Madam Frenchy, HE will be better
off. If he die now he Will so to de heaven
If he live you know not ware he will CO."
| But Harry did not die. After he came to
he man he remembered that illness. He al
ways said Shirley saved him. She was SO
strong and CHEEKY and gentle that he said
from the minute he saw her face that day it
put new life into him.
All night she held the child in her arms
All that night, while she rocked him and
soothed him and gave him his drink, she
looked her future steadily in the face
She saw that her hands were to be full for
years to come The work that lay before
her was the most distasteful, dispiriting task
to which her hands could have been set She
must put the poem aside. Perhaps now it
would be three years before she could begin
it, What then: Her range of knowledge
and feeling would DE all the wider, the richer
and deeper. for this melancholy experience